


Lettuce Get Together

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Meet-Cute, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:51:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked<br/>Klaine + "repeatedly comes into the shop I work and picks up a lettuce then halfway through the shop decides they don’t want the lettuce and puts it back on the shelf next to them regardless of what aisle they’re in" please! (Would love it if it ends up being on completely ridiculous places like in the hardware section or soap or dog food, etc)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lettuce Get Together

_What do I want to eat tonight …_

_Hmmm_

_Oh Junior’s Cheesecake, yum_

_Not reasonable, so unreasonable …_

_Maybe if I take just a salad?_

_Oh look, half-price on the lettuce, this is it, it’s Fate, I have to get that salad, and I will lightly season it, and then I will be allowed to splurge on the cheesecake_

_Good adulting, Kurt_

_What else do I need?_

_Right, light bulbs_

_…_

_I already have carrots that I should eat in the fridge don’t I_

_Nevermind_

_Wait, the lightbulbs are a bit too high–need both hands–alright, let’s go_

_… Didn’t I forget something?_

—

Of all the places in the supermarket, Blaine didn’t expect to see a lettuce crowning a row of light bulbs.

But he takes it out of its plastic bag, gives it a little shower to freshen it up and returns it to the proper aisle.

He got used to odd things happening in the store fairly quickly.

—

_Vodka, check_

_Liquorice candies, check–though I don’t like the sound of that_

_Pita chips, check_

_Salad, check_

_Toothpaste and menstrual pads, check_

_Kitty tr–what?_

Kurt stops in the middle of an aisle and calls Rachel.

“Rachel, why are there kitty treats on the grocery list?”

“ _Oh, hi Kurt._ ”

“Don’t oh hi me, Rachel–did you get a cat?”

“ _An adorable kitten, and it’s been two weeks so that means that he’s very discrete._ ”

“And you’ve decided that a good way to confess was to put its food on the list?”

“ _You know me, I hate confrontations._ ”

“You  **love**  confrontations, Rachel, you just don’t like it when I yell at you!”

“ _Well, no, I don’t_.”

Kurt is going to kill her–he’s going to take that kitten, wrap it around her throat … and then he’ll see if he keeps it for himself.

 _“I’m really sorry Kurt, he was just so cute and lonely in that little box next to the trashcan …_ ”

Kurt groans and puts what he already picked down on a nearby shelf. “Don’t oversell it, Rach,” he says tiredly. “But you know what, you’ve just earned yourself two weeks of grocery shopping while I bond with your demonic beast, starting now.”

“ _But you’re already at the store!_ ”

“Rachel.”

“… _Alright, come home already so I can introduce you to Berlioz.”_

That makes him laugh, and Kurt snatches a red piece of ribbon on a shelf nearby. “See you soon.”

—

The diapers.

Someone left a bag of lettuce amidst the diapers.

Blaine shakes his head and after putting the poor salad back where it belongs, trots to the security desk.

“Do you know who is dispatching the lettuces?”

“Come again,” Trent replies, opening wide eyes.

“Someone is having fun leaving lettuces around the store, and I would like to know who it is,” Blaine explains, peeking at the control screens.

“Let me check,” Trent says, rolling back some of the videos. “No, no, nope; you sure the lettuce isn’t possess–ah!” he exclaims, and Blaine leans forward. “There you go.”

There is a very handsome man talking on a phone on film, getting angry–and damn if he doesn’t look hotter when he does–before sighing and leaving everything he had in his hands on the shelf.

Between two packs of diapers, but he doesn’t seem to realize it.

“Gotcha.”

—

_Oh gosh it’s been so hot today I can’t possibly cook tonight, all I want is a tepid shower and a salad_

_Yeah, a big, fresh salad–lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, croutons … Maybe some chips though, ‘m not a rabbit_

_Uh-oh_

Kurt looks up from the tomato baskets, feeling goosebumps on the back of his neck.

Someone is following him.

As slowly as he can, he tries to look over his shoulder.

Nothing particularly catches his eye: an old woman with a fancy shawl around her shoulders, sniffing the pineapples; a man in a captain america t-shirt, holding up melons; a man with a store apron, checking the shelves and looking in his direction–

_Hello._

_He-llo._

_Cutie alert._

“Do you need help, sir?” Cutie McFood Bazaar asks, a gentle–if embarrassed, what, because he got caught?– smile on his face.

Even though his eyes dart from Kurt’s face to the lettuce in his hand.

Very odd.

“I–I need croutons,” Kurt finally asks, because he does need them and it will give him an opportunity to spend some little time with the Cutie.

Even if he’s straight, it can’t hurt to appreciate the esthetic of this man while he gets to the right place.

 _Sigh_.

“What brand would you recommend?” he asks Cutie–even if Kurt can read the nametag, this Blaine deserves to be called a cutie in the privacy of Kurt’s mind–when they get there.

“Depends on what you are looking for,” Blaine replies, a soft smile on his face while he waits.

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, something to put in my salad–what about those herbed pita croutons?” he asks, nodding towards a shelf.

Blaine’s nose wrinkles, and it shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. “I wouldn’t recommend this particular brand,” he says, voice clipped and a bit cold, “for … humanitarian reasons.”

Kurt’s puzzlement must appear on his face, because Blaine clears his throat and takes a step closer. “They have been flagged red on the Human Rights Campaign website.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

Does that mean that perhaps–

Well, at least it means that Blaine has the potential to be sympathetic to Kurt’s cause.

At least.

_Small victories!_

“Campbell’s makes pretty decent herbed croutons, though,” Blaine continues.

“And they have the HRC stamp of approval?” Kurt asks, more teasing than anything, if only to see that embarrassed smile on Blaine’s face one more time.

There it is.

“They do,” Blaine confirms. “Do you need help to get it?”

Kurt can’t help but raise one eyebrow in derision. “I think I can reach a bit further than you,” he replies, but as he goes to pick the box that has the most promising name (Garlic and parsley croutons, yum), he realizes that he does need help. “Actually …”

Blaine lets out a chuckle and gets closer.

impossibly closer.

Kurt can smell his hairgel, and isn’t that fantastic.

“Here, let me hold your things,” Blaine offers, and Kurt bites on his lower lip before smiling tightly at Blaine as he hands him his items.

Because he now has a very nice mental image of Blaine holding Kurt’s … things.

Private things.

Oh dear Lord he should not be left alone with adorable, helpful, might be gay men.

Kurt takes his box and expects Blaine to return the vegetables when Blaine’s smile widens a bit. “May I help you to the cashier?”

Kurt smiles back. “Yes. Yes, you may.”

As they get in line, Blaine catches a basket and hands it to Kurt. “There–this time, you won’t forget anything.”

Kurt takes the basket and holds a sigh. “Thank you, Blaine.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

Kurt doesn’t let the view of Blaine’s backside go to waste while he waits for his turn before he replays his parting words.

“What do you mean, this time?!”

—

“Excuse me?”

Blaine looks up and barely keeps himself from beaming up at Gorgeous Lettuce.

(He knows that he needs to work on his nicknames, but who really cares except him? Uh?)

“Oh, good evening sir.”

“Kurt,” Gorgeous Lett–the man replies as Blaine stands up. “Please call me Kurt.”

“Kurt,” Blaine repeats, letting the name roll off his tongue.

It feels nice.

It’s cute.

Like, dirty cute.

Like, it would sound like perfection on Blaine’s lips in a more private setting.

Back to topic. “How may I help you, Kurt?”

Kurt looks embarrassed for a moment, knuckles whitening around the handles of the basket.

Ah, progress.

“I was wondering what–what you meant, the last time I was here.”

Blaine tries to recall the memory, but except for Kurt’s excessive cuteness in the whole exchange and the curve of Kurt’s ass as he reached for the box of croutons, he can’t remember what he said. “Refresh my memory?”

“You said … you said, you implied at least, that I had forgotten things here in the past.”

Oh, that parting comment–Blaine had not even think about it.

“Well, you did forget your salad in the most random aisle a couple of times–that I was aware of, anyway.”

“I did?”

Blaine smiles at Kurt’s horrified expression. It’s too cute, and he wants to kiss those frown lines away. “You did, but that’s alright.”

“Did it add to your workload?”

Blaine shrugs. “It’s not like you are the only customer who changes his mind mid-shopping,” he replies before giving Kurt a short nod. “All items misplaced are an additional workload, that’s for sure. But I don’t mind yours,” he adds, feeling daring on a whim.

Kurt’s eyes widen, their color impossible under the neons. And then he smiles.

In a way that makes Blaine wish that they were in that more private setting.

“My lettuce brought us together, uh?”

“I … guess?”

“Then  **lettuce**  be thankful.”

The pun would make him groan if he wasn’t so curious.

“For? Terrible puns?”

Kurt chuckles, and the sound makes something warm puddle in Blaine’s stomach. “For meeting each other.”

“I could cheer to that,” Blaine says, miming a toast.

“You’d need a drink for that,” Kurt points out, and Blaine follows his whim.

Picking up a bottle of cider from a nearby shelf, he delicately puts it in Kurt’s basket. “And now we have one.”

“Are you inviting yourself on a date with me at my place?” Kurt asks.

“ **Lettuce**  be adventurous.”

“Let’s.”

(The Filipino lettuce [wraps](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/474x/f0/9b/0b/f09b0bafc3077bb8155633fea3cd3804.jpg) they have for their wedding as an amuse-bouche is one of the most private jokes they share that day)


End file.
